War Bonds
by SparkHiggins
Summary: Sequel to Family Ties! The babies have been born, but what happens when the threat of Chant and other disturbances looms over the happy familiy?
1. Engaging In Battle

A/N : A lot of this plot is carryover from my story Family Ties so if you haven't read that you really need to before you proceed with this story, or else you will get completely and totally confused.  
  
I leaned forward in my chair, looking at each of the children. I smiled as I started the long winded tale. "Now, as you all know, Spark had just had Arianna and Shai and we named them. That wasn't the end of the day though, and that's where this story picks up."  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
So I sat, enveloping Spark in my arms in the privacy of the room. Shai and Ari were laying on our laps sleeping until there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I called out.  
  
"Someone heah ta see their sistah's children," Spot said through the door. "Can I come in theah now?"  
  
"Of course you can come in, dumbass! You're their uncle for crying out loud," Spark shouted at the door, cutting me off.  
  
The door swung open and Spot looked her straight on in the eyes. I expected something bad to happen, but instead he asked quietly, "Their? Did you say their?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right, you're the proud uncle of a beautiful baby boy-- " she said grinning.  
  
"And a priceless little goil," I finished.  
  
"Dey got names?" he asked.  
  
"What kind of heathens do you take us for? Of course they have names. Number 1 and number 2," she joked.  
  
"What's da real names?" Spot asked me.  
  
"Dat'd be Arianna Chaya an' Shai Domincio," I answered.  
  
"Dey gots newsie names?" he asked. I couldn't figure out what was with the inquiry, but I assumed he just had trouble with this sort of thing. It was an awkward situation for a nineteen-year-old boy when you think about it. Then again, here I was eighteen and already a father.  
  
"Haven't really decided yet," Spark answered quickly, but I cut in.  
  
"If I may," I said, waiting for a nod of approval. She gave it and I started in, "Well, I remembah a coitain coversation wit' ya 'bout da name Controversy. It fits well for Shai, an' dese too have definitely raised a ruckus." Spark nodded and I took that as a sign to continue. "For Ari I was thinkin' Flash. Don' know why exactly, it jus' seems ta suit 'er."  
  
I could see Alex considering the potential names for the children. She nodded. "Ya remembahed 'bout Controversy?" she asked, surprised.  
  
I grinned. "I remembahed a lotta t'ings from a lotta conversations."  
  
"We ready ta go out dere an' face da woild wit' ya babies?" Spot asked, and I could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation.  
  
"Dere's jus' one moah t'ing I gotta do," I said. I noticed the look on Spot's face and knew he wanted to get out of the room. "You can go on ahead, Spot," I told him. He nodded and left the room.  
  
"What do you want?" Spark asked curiously, but not with any sign of hostility.  
  
"Well," I said, nervous. I'd definitely never done anything this nerve-wrecking before. "I was wonderin'," I said. No, that didn't sound right. C'mon Race, be romantic! "Well, as ya might've noticed, I'se loved ya since da moment I clamped eyes on ya," I started. Not a bad start, I thought smugly to myself. I so had this thing in the bag. "An' I hope ya feel da same way as I do 'bout ya. But I wanna make shore ya know jus' how much I love ya." I glanced down at the kids. "An' how much I love Arianna an' Shai," I added. "What I'se tryin' ta say is," I started, choking on the words about to come out. I was overwhelmed with nervous emotions flying around my head. "Will ya," I started. Wait, Race, wait. You have to be on the ground kneeling. I pulled myself off the bed and kneeled beside her. "Will ya marry me?" I finally gasped out. I pulled a small pathetic-looking box out of my pocket and handed it to her.  
  
"Of course!" she shouted, hugging me and kissing me sweetly. I sighed in relief. She looked down at the ring on her finger. "It's so nice. How'd ya afford it?"  
  
I could tell she was worried about income, but she needn't have thought about it one bit. "It was me grandmuddah's weddin' ring, back from when dat side 'a da family had some money. Me faddah gave it ta me muddah an' I'se givin it ta you an' someday you'll give it ta Shai for him ta give 'is wife."  
  
"So, fiancée," she said, grinning broadly. "Ready to go make the announcement?" she asked.  
  
"Ready as ever," I sighed, relieved to have the worst part over with.  
  
The rest of the next hour or so was spent being congratulated by various newsboys and girls along with the crew that had helped out and some of Medda's regular acts. The crowd was large and apparently someone had spent some money and gotten us some very cheap wine for celebration. I sat next to Spark, Arianna in my lap, sipping small quantities of the wine and smiling politely to the people that walked by and thanked us. Alex, however, looked very uncomfortable with the situation. "Alex? You'se all righ'? Ya feelin' fine?"  
  
She looked at me, and I had no doubt I'd startled her out of her glazed over thoughts. She shook another gentleman friend of Medda's hand and turned to me. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"Well," I said, lowering my voice so that no one else heard. "I'se noticed you'se lookin' unhappy, dat's all. Jus' wanted ta make shore you'se up ta dis, ya know?"  
  
"To tell you the truth, I'm just uncomfortable being the center of attention all the time. It's just not my thing."  
  
"You'se da centah of attention a lot," I told her, not quite getting what she was hinting at.  
  
"Yeah, but never for circumstances--" she paused there, making sure I knew the meaning of the word she used. I nodded her on; I had learned the word from David only a week before. See? Having an educated newsie around all the time was very nifty. "-- that I chose myself. I didn't choose to be Spot's sister, and I didn't choose to be the main victim of Chant's plots.. but I chose to marry you. And that just makes the attention twenty times more excruciating." She paused for a second before catching her mistake. "Painful." Spark looked at me desperately. "You sort of see where I'm going with this?"  
  
I nodded. "Ya wanna ditch?" I asked, spitting ideas out, trying desperately to please my new fiancée.  
  
She grinned her 'you're-an-idiot-Racetrack' smile as she responded. "I can't very well move enough to ditch, you know. And even if I could, you don't need to try so hard to please me. I can do just fine on my own, thank you." Even as she attempted to protect her dignity she was smiling softly, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh at me.  
  
"Race!" I heard Jack shout with urgency in his voice. "I'se been lookin' for ya! We'se gotta go! Spot's boys is sayin' dey's gettin' attacked by Chant's already. We gotta help 'em out right away. I need ya ta back me!"  
  
I looked longingly at the girl on my right, but I knew I couldn't blow Jack off. I stood and Spark grabbed my hand earnestly. "Don't leave me," she whispered.  
  
"I don' got a choice, Alex," I answered, feeling helpless.  
  
"I'se comin' wit' ya," she proclaimed with an unimaginable bit of strength.  
  
"Spark, you'se delirious. You just had two children, ya need ta rest!" I said. I couldn't believe she was doing this to me. I didn't want to go, but I had duties. The only thing that could make me stay was her, and she was making me feel the need to stay. I couldn't abandon my boys like that though. "I'se gotta duty ta da boys, but foist an' foremost you'se got a duty ta da children ya just beared. Protect 'em an' rest."  
  
"I don't think you understand how it is for me. I can't sit here every day not knowing if you're dead or alive or wounded. I can't handle that. I need to be there. If I die, so be it, but if you die I need to know."  
  
I looked at her in disbelief. She was completely willing to give her life for the betterment of the people fighting for her own life. I looked at her, amazed by this sagely side I'd never seen before. "I know ya don' feah for ya own life, an' I totally respect dat, but you'se gotta feah for da lives of da children. Dey can' grow up without their muddah. An' you'se in a weakened physical state!"  
  
"You've got me beat, Racetrack. But hear this, if you go off and get yourself killed I'll never forgive you, even in heaven!" she said. I could tell she was scared. Everyone else thought she was angry, but inside she was petrified of the oncoming battles and the ones that were currently raging.  
  
"I love ya, 'Lex," I whispered into her ear as I kissed her forehead. With that Jack and I were out the door and off towards the dangerous battlefield Brooklyn had become.  
  
A/N: What do you think? Lemme know!!  
  
For once in my life I don't have any SOs to write. It's kinda a lonely feeling. Make sure it doesn't happen again! 


	2. Black Out

"How many men does Chant have on 'em?" I asked jack as we walked through the last bit of safety before approaching the bridge.  
  
"Neah a hundred." He sighed, and I could tell he was nervous. "We'se gots seventy-five."  
  
I gulped. Not only were the numbers not looking good, but also Jack was nervous. The only other time Jack had been worried about anything that I knew of was when he thought he might end up back in the Refuge for the third time. Jack hadn't even been afraid when he was on the roof of the jail he called his "home, sweet home" trying to help out Crutchy. "Is it truly dat bad?" I asked, somewhat astonished.  
  
"It's not like we should've expected 'im ta jus' back off. But, I mean, dis wasn' exactly da most heated fight Spot's evah had, and Chant's da foist one ta go through wit' it." Jack was looking straight ahead now, quickening his pace. I realized that he was trying to prevent from provoking attack and I followed suit.  
  
"Get da hell ovah heah an' fight like men!" I heard a burly boy shout at us. I started towards him but Jack put a restraining hand on my arm. I knew he was doing it for my safety but it drove me crazy.  
  
I reached for my pocket knife. "C'mon! One nice slice, Jack! I could get rid a 'im once an' fa all."  
  
"You'se gotta save it for da big boys."  
  
I stared blanked eyed at the boy that had confronted us. "An' he ain't one of da big boys?"  
  
"'e's jus' Scrimmage. I wouldn' worry 'bout 'im too much. Let's jus' get in dere an' get ta Chant foist," Jack said, laying the strategy.  
  
"Why'se we headed straight for da dangah before takin' da rest out?" I asked, confused.  
  
"It's ya goilfriend's logic. A group can' perform without a leadah, an' Chant's definitely da leadah heah."  
  
"Fiancée," I corrected, but I was smiling happily. Of course Spark would come up with something like that, she was the intelligent one. Suddenly, a thought popped into my mind. "Who'se takin' care of da babies an' Spark if everyone is ovah heah fightin'?"  
  
"Medda agreed ta take 'er in an' she'll be safah dere den anywheah else dat's an option."  
  
"S'pose," I said. Just then, a boy came rushing towards the two of us with a knife. I pulled my own out and did a quick thrust cut into his stomach. It wasn't going to kill him, just immobilize him for the next few weeks so that I was safe. I charged into the bloodied warehouse with Jack hot on my heels.  
  
Spot saw us and motioned for us to join him. "I'se got ya a cane, Race, an' Jack I t'ink ya know how ta use a slingshot?" Jack nodded. "Give ya guy Skitts in da doorway dis knife an' tell 'im ta get fightin'." As Jack set off through the peril to deliver the weapon, Spot turned to me. "How's me sistah?"  
  
"Ya mean me fiancée?" I said, trying to speak in what sounded like a casual, bored tone. "She's doin' fine. Didn' want ta stay back though."  
  
"Ya fiancée?" he asked, astonished.  
  
"I proposed an' she said yes. Dat'd make her dat wouldn' it?" I looked at the two boys approaching us. "Now's da time ta fight though."  
  
I delivered a quick blow to the head of one, knocking him into the other so they both crashed on a pile of wooden boxes. The noise gave my somewhat hidden position away and as I motioned for Spot to leave so he wouldn't be caught, something caught my eye. Slider was at the door pleading with the boy I'd heard Spark call Roman. I stealthily slid my way out of the hiding spot and weaved my way between boxes to get to Spot's girl.  
  
"Sli?" I asked, cautiously looking over my shoulder the entire time. "What's da problem?"  
  
"I'se tryin' ta get Roman heah ta get Dev ta safety. He ain't in condition ta fight but 'e insists. I wanna keep Devy safe though," she explained.  
  
"Roman," I started. "Take Dev back ta Irvin' Hall in 'Hattan. Find me goil an' let 'er know I love 'er. Stay dere an' Medda'll fix ya up wit' da right medical attention. Ya save da goil an' you'se gonna be a battle hero anyway."  
  
Roman pondered this for a second before nodding and slipping through the cracked door and disappearing into the smaller battles going on in the inside. I realized the irony in the hiding and seeking game, it was like child's play. It was ridiculous.  
  
"I'se findin' Chant, who's wit' me?" I asked the huddle that had formed around me. I looked at my assorted bloodied and beaten friends who nodded as they panted from exertion. "Let's go."  
  
With that the ten or so of us headed straight towards the "guards" hiding Chant. The first one I found I punched in the head, my cane having been long abandoned. Unfortunately, he was strong enough to come back with a blow to the stomach that sent me reeling onto the ground. Jack gave me a hand and pulled me back so I could kick the boy in the head again. This blow seemed to do it well enough to get him onto the ground. I kicked him aside. Now was not the time to be worrying about humane fighting techniques. As I looked at Sprite lying on the ground injured I knew that this wasn't going to be a "polite" fight. I felt someone's breath on my neck and turned around. I didn't even know what was happening until I felt the pipe connect with my head, and then I instantly blacked out.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
I looked at the children sitting around, eager to hear more the escapades that happened three years past. "I can't tell you more of this part, I think that should be Spark's job again. I don't remember a thing for at least three days." I looked up at the woman smiling, the ancient ring shining on her finger. "Alex? You want to tell your part of my escapades after the fight?"  
  
"Of course." She walked over towards my armchair, sitting down on my knee, balancing precariously and beginning to tell the story..  
  
A/N: okay, I know I said this was all in Racetrack's perspective and most of it will be but I need this in a woman's perspective because naturally he wouldn't remember everything that happened.  
  
This is my first attempt at a fight scene and I know its weak but lemme know what you think.  
  
Alrighty, then!  
  
Shoutouts:  
  
Kittylace: You got a log in!! Tight. Yep, sequels can be good. Or they can be bad. I hope this one goes under the first category. : )  
  
Soaker: I know! I was having so much fun making him such a romantic. And being nervous. It was great. The next chapter may not be in Race's perspective but it will be all about him and then it'll switch back to his own perspective in the chapter after next.  
  
Fingers: You get a shoutout. And no, I didn't want to do that. I can't see Spottie fainting, sorry.  
  
Sweets: hey! I know I just talked to you. lol. Why didn't you have school?? Lucky!! Yep, yep. You'll work your way in soon. : )  
  
Fist: It's called, "he was telling a story and first part is setting the scene, thus the *~*~*~* sign." *mutter something that sounds very similar to "stupid asshole." Anyway, you don't get a flying desk set until you watch DPS now because you never watched it. "Hello, my name is Joe."  
  
Drama-Queen: Yes, well, its all foolish man-pride isn't it? Haha. Keep reading!  
  
There you go. Chappie 2!! 


	3. Praying for Recovery

A/N: Remember, this chapter is in Spark's perspective because Racetrack was unconscious for this part.  
  
**on with the story**  
  
I sat there for three days wringing cloths in my hands nervously. I hated this whole not knowing what was happening thing. I nearly went insane with worry about it. I prayed that I would get a report of the conditions every second. I wanted a play-by-play of what was happening right now, especially to Spot and Race.  
  
"Medda?" I asked her, trying to sound innocent.  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"I need to know. I need to get down there. Can you help me?" I said, surprised at how strong the words came off.  
  
"I was wondering how long it would take you to ask. You remind me a lot of myself in my early years. Spunky and independent, but still kind and loving. That's a good way to be." Obviously she realized she was blabbing because a second later she returned to the topic at hand. "I can' get ya in dere but I can get ya ta da bridge an' send Roman in from dere. He'll give ya a report and den bring ya back heah. It's da safest way ta get what ya want."  
  
I considered the plan. I wanted to protest but I couldn't - it was my only option. I tried to push myself up from the barrel but I wasn't able to stand up on my own. Medda gave me a hand and I was up in an instant. Once I was up it was easier.  
  
Roman walked into the room and I thanked him too. "What? Now I get to be even moah of a war hero." Seeing the look of hurt on my face he quickly added, "An' help out one of me best friends in da woild."  
  
"That's more like it," I joked, smiling. I didn't know how I could smile at a grave and solemn time like this, but I could. The danger just didn't seem real then.. The two of us set off, looking like such an odd couple, but we didn't care. Both of us were off to do what we wanted to do most: me to find out news about Race and Spot's conditions and Roman to get a glimpse of action and become more of a war hero.  
  
"This is how bad it is outside the warehouse?" I asked wondering how bad it could be. The outside was nearly abandoned at that point.  
  
"Most of the outside fighting dies down within the day. Most of 'em are still heah though," he said as he pulled back a stack of boxes to reveal quite a few boys injured with knife cuts. I noted with pride the whimsical "S" shape carved into them, the mark of my brave brother. The blood from the cuts was still bleeding freshly so I knew Spot at least was all right. One down, only one left to go. "Stay heah while I tell ya what's happenin'," Roman insisted. I waited as he disappeared stealthily through the doorway.  
  
I don't know what it is about life on the streets, but it makes a person more adventurous, that's for sure. Less than a year ago I would have shook my head slowly and heeded Roman's warnings. Now I found myself recklessly sliding through the crack in the doorway and looking at the scene around me. With one simple step I saw all of the drama unfold before me. I looked around the ground, littered with bodies of boys, and I noted that at least five of them weren't breathing at all. I scanned the boys standing but to no avail - Racetrack was definitely not among them. I desperately looked and looked, praying he was standing upright. With insanity that only the woman who lost the love of her life can feel I ran amongst those on the ground, searching for Racetrack's face. One boy reached up at tugged at my skirt, I heard cries of "Help!" throughout the warehouse, but my mind was on one thing. I say the familiar poof of red hair as I nearly barreled over Mouth. I noticed a tear streaming her cheek, the first I had seen on the girl who feared weakness.  
  
She merely pointed and I looked at the body beside her. "Dominic," she whispered. Bumlets was laying there, barely breathing. She was gripping his hand and crying. Even I knew he wasn't going to make it out of that alive. She spoke again, still filled with remorse. "Why Dominic? What'd he evah do ta anyone? He didn' even wanna fi ght, he was jus' doin' what he had da duty ta do. Why, G-d? Why?"  
  
I knew she didn't need me there to hear her confessions so I moved on. A moment later I saw a little newsie who I remembered from the Queens meetings, Ricochet, lying bleeding on the floor. I couldn't surpass him, and I was having no luck finding Race, so with the last bit of strength in my body I grabbed the small boy and hoisted him over my shoulder, ready to run him back to Manhattan, delicate condition or not.  
  
As I ran out of the door, crying from deep inside my heart without feeling anything I ran into Roman. He grabbed Ricochet off my shoulder and we started towards Medda's without him even reprimanding me for disobeying.  
  
We didn't even reach the Bridge however, without Slider running after us. "Race's heah! He's unconscious, but you'se need ta take 'im wit' ya!"  
  
After hearing that he was still alive I myself gave into my "weakened physical state" and dropped to my knees. I shook with joyful sobs as I prayed to G-d and thanked him for delivering Racetrack through the fight safely.  
  
"Where is he?" I heard Roman ask. Slider responded and led Roman off towards where Racetrack was so he could be brought back over here. This left Ricochet and me alone.  
  
"Spark?" he said tentatively. I glanced up, letting him know it was okay to carry on. "Do you love Racetrack?"  
  
I was somewhat startled by his question. It was something only a ten year old boy would think to ask. "Yes," I answered, trying to sound sweet without babying him.  
  
"Why do you love him?"  
  
This questioned made me think even more than the other one. Why do we love people? I asked myself. I tried to find words for the feeling. "He makes me feel safe and protected, yet gives me risk and danger. He's sweet and romantic, but still hard working and can support a family. Race is funny, but knows when to be serious. He's amazing and perfect as well. I guess, to sum it all up, I just do. Can you understand that?"  
  
Ricochet got a confused look on his face and it appeared he was trying to sort out what I had told him. He glanced up at me smiling. "No."  
  
"Someday you will," I promised, pulling his head close to my stomach. "Someday you will."  
  
The brief moment was interrupted quickly by Roman's staggered breathing as he brought forth Racetrack in a sort of chair on wheels to take him back to 'Hattan. It hurt to see Race like that - cold and lifeless - but I had to face the facts. We walked solemnly back to the newsboys lodging house, my heart heavy with pain and mourning.  
  
"Kloppman!" Roman shouted as he wheeled Race in. Ricochet hopped off Roman's back as the old man approached. "We'se got two injured heah. We need ya help."  
  
"Is that..?" Kloppman started, and I knew he just didn't want to believe his eyes. "Is Anthony okay?"  
  
"He's supposed to be all right if we take care of him right away. Can we afford a doctor?" I said, stepping up and ready to play the role of the nurse.  
  
Kloppman shook his head. "I don't think we can afford it, honey. We'll just have to take care of him best we can ourselves. How 'bout we fix him up a bed right now and you can have one near him and be his nurse?" the lodging house owner offered kindly.  
  
"Is that okay? Having me in the bunkroom I mean."  
  
"You're already a mother, Alex," Kloppman said smiling. "I doubt anything is left to happen, 'specially when the only person you want anything to happen with is out cold." I could tell he was joking but at the same time I could see the disappointment that he felt towards both Racetrack and me buried deep within his eyes. This was one of those times when I hated how well I could read people's opinions.  
  
For some reason I felt the need to have Kloppman's approval. "Have you heard the news though?" I asked, holding up my beautiful engagement band.  
  
I could instantly see the heavy shadows in his eyes lighten slightly. "When's the ceremony?"  
  
"It was supposed to be on May 12, my eighteenth birthday," I told him. Then I looked down at Race's slumping figure. "I guess now it depends on a lot of things."  
  
"I know I may just be a lodging house owner of no consequence, but if it means anything to you, you and Race have my blessing." Kloppman said, before turning his attention to the injured boys. "Roman, you get Racetrack upstairs and cleaned up so I can come up there soon. Spark, you and I will take care of Chet, okay?"  
  
We barely had time to agree before Kloppman whisked me off to help with the young boy as Roman attempted to help Race. I worked tirelessly on Ricochet's various cuts and bruises, pouring the alcohol on his skin and bandaging it up. I knew the pain must be intense, but the boy blinked back no tears. He bit his lip and bared it. It was then that I realized how strong the newsboys had to be. Sure, they were involved in fights and had to be tough, but it was the little things that really proved it. By the time I had finished with Ric, Roman had already gotten Race's things all set up, and Kloppman and I climbed the stairs to start on him. I realized the full damage done by the other boys and nearly cried. The others cleared the room to give me a moment to take it all in. I looked down at Racetrack slowly, examining the various abrasions.  
  
"C'mon Race, wake up," I said before pulling out the alcohol bottle. At least he doesn't have to feel it, I thought to myself. I cleaned the gash across his forehead before wrapping it with the cloth Kloppman had given me. Instantly the blood soaked through and I knew it would need stitches. I looked at the kit I had been handed earlier and located the needle. I bit my lip and winced with every stitch I sewed. Examining my handiwork I cringed yet again. Sewing someone's flesh wasn't exactly my ideal pastime. I hurried to doctor his other injuries, still refusing to accept that he was unconscious. Eventually, I knew I would have to deal with that, and soon. I called out to Roman and he came in. "How're we gonna wake him?" I asked, unsure of how to approach the situation.  
  
"Klopp was suggestin' smellin' salts for a try. Dey got 'im right on da back of da neck, right wheah ya need ta hit ta knock 'em out for three or foah days, but he should be wakin' soon," he said. Under his breath I heard him add, "if evah."  
  
"Well I guess that's the only option," I said, pulling the strongly scented bottle of grains from inside the bag that served as the first aid kit. I stuck it under his nose and watched as he inhaled the fumes. We sat in silence for three minutes until it was clear that wasn't going to wake him up.  
  
"He'll be okay, Spark, jus' give 'im some time," Roman said, patting me lightly on the back. I smiled weakly as he walked out the door before collapsing on the bed beside my love.  
  
I whispered as I feel asleep, "Please, G-d, if you do exist, this is the last thing I'll ever ask you to do. Save Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins. Dear G-d, I swear I'll be a saint if you just give me this one wish." I could have sworn I saw a flash of light in the sky as I closed my eyes. I laid my head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder and drifted into slumber.  
  
I opened my eyes suddenly the next morning, aware of someone running their fingers through my hair. I looked up and saw Racetrack's smiling face, eyes open wide. "I'se back, Spark. And I ain't nevah goin' away again."  
  
"Race!!" was all I could shout as I buried my head in his chest. I've always said that was the happiest day of my life.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Daddy's okay!" I heard little Shai shout.  
  
His sister chimed in, "Now we can heah his side of da story!"  
  
I heard choruses of happiness around the room. Every girl and boy was intrigued by the story of our lives. I guess it truly was an interesting story. I grinned as I let Race slide into the chair again and begin his tale.  
  
A/N: Okay, so uncharacteristically long wait for a chapter, but blame that on ff.net's evilness. xD. At least you got a pretty long chapter.  
  
SOs (I love doing these!):  
  
Sweets: Haha. Gotta say, Pearl Harbor isn't quite what I would have thought to compare it to, but when you think about it.. Half asleep-ness is good too. Yep, yep. Anyway, that's the chapter you kept hounding me about, hope it was worth the wait.  
  
Soaker: Yep. Romantic warriors are my favorite. Romeo wasn't really a warrior though. He didn't really fight except when he killed Tybalt. I just read Romeo & Juliet if you were wondering. Well.. up till Mercutio died. Then it sucked, 'cause I love Mercutio. Anyway.. glad you like my stuff so much!! Makes me feel special.  
  
Sureshot: Well, I didn't hurry, but Race is all right. Hooray!!  
  
Plaid Pajamas: Glad you're so excited. LOL. Keep readin'!! 


	4. Worrying

A/N: I love my reviewers! How about a big reviewer group hug! Haha. Sorry, I'm high. Off to write a chapter of happiness and highness. Did they have drugs in 1903?? I don't know. But now they do. Hehehehehehehehehe.  
  
- - - - - - - - -  
  
"You'se a brave man, daddy!" Shai shouted before Race could begin to tell rest of the tale.  
  
"I think the true hero in this story were the Conlon's," Racetrack stated. He got the storytelling gleam in his eye and I could tell he was trying to remember way back.  
  
-*-*-*-  
  
"Kloppy, get in heah! Don' worry, I'se okay!" I shouted after my beautiful fiancée dried her eyes.  
  
The old man rushed in the room and the look on his face was ecstatic. I grinned as he started to talk. "You gave us such a scare, Race! Rest up! Lemme go make some soup or somethin'!"  
  
"Trust me, Kloppman, Racetrack is not going to want your soup. No offense, but you've never cooked a day in your life. Lemme go get some money I have saved up and buy him some soup from Tibby's," Alex joked, reaching for the money purse she always kept in her jacket pocket.  
  
"Are you insulting my cooking?" he asked, his tone equally jesting.  
  
"Yes," she answered before walking out the door to buy the soup. I wanted to protest that we had to save our money, but she would hear none of it. "I want you to get better, Race. This isn't a time to penny pinch."  
  
"Shouldn't we be saving our money for something more important?" I asked her.  
  
"There won't be a wedding if you die!" she shouted before storming down the stairs. I followed her mentally in my head all the way to Tibby's and all the way home. At least, I thought I was following the route mentally. After twenty minutes we all started to get antsy.  
  
Eventually, Roman spoke about what we all feared. "Should I go look for her? She might be in trouble."  
  
Kloppman nodded his head. For the full twenty minutes Roman was out searching Kloppman tried to keep my mind off of Alex wandering the streets, but I couldn't. I worried and imagined every possible worst case scenario. She hadn't been that careful about not making enemies, and I knew nothing about the Chant situation. And, of course, plenty of alley men would want her. She was one hot piece of..  
  
-*-*-*-  
  
I felt a piece of cloth flick my ear. "What was that for?" I demanded of the grinning woman behind me.  
  
"You weren't about to tell the children that!" she said, playing the role of the worrisome mother. That role still didn't quite suit her well.  
  
"Of coise not," I said, grinning.  
  
"She was one hot piece of ass. And plenty good in bed. Trust me, I know," I said, completely aware that this was going over the children's heads but driving Alex insane.  
  
Instead of giving in to my taunting she smiled seductively. "Want me to prove it to you again tonight?" she asked, her voice fully believable.  
  
I grinned. "Shore, honey." I turned back to the children, who didn't understand what was going on in front of their eyes. "Now back to the story.."  
  
-*-*-*-  
  
I worried and worried like a mother when her son leaves for college, but no news came for the longest twenty or thirty minutes of my life. After that duration was over, Roman burst through the door, helping a panting Alex. She collapsed onto the foot of my bed and I looked questioningly at Roman for the story.  
  
"Remembah da Delancy incident?" Roman asked. Of course I remembered, but how did Roman know? Probably heard the story from Spot. Either way. "Well, Oscah doesn' take well ta bein' embarrassed."  
  
I could fill in the blanks by myself. I envisioned her being pushed against the cold alley wall with slimy Oscar trying to take advantage of her. I didn't want to think about it. I turned my thoughts towards the raging battle in Brooklyn. I pictured Jack lying injured on the ground. I didn't want to think about that either. All of my happy thoughts were contained in the thoughts of one particular person - Alexandra Rachel "Spark" Conlon (and soon to be Higgins) - and I couldn't wait till I was eternally a family with that person and our children.  
  
"Roman," I asked as my thoughts drifted towards family. "Where are da kids? Can ya bring 'em heah? I haven' really gotten ta see too much of 'em since dey was boin."  
  
"Shore. Dey's down at Medda's place, an' I I'll go down dere now. Ya need anythin' while I'se out?" Roman answered.  
  
"Jus' news. Find out what ya can 'bout da boys. 'Specially Spot," I said, nodding my head in the direction of Alex's sleeping body.  
  
"Of coise," he said as he pulled his hat onto his head. I nodded in goodbye as he waltzed out the door, searching.  
  
Looking around the bunkroom I became restless and antsy. When Alex asked me why I was acting that way I answered, "'Lex, ya don' understand how much I need ta know what's goin' on out dere. I'se supposed ta be fightin' wit' 'em. If someone gets hoit I ain't gonna foahgive meself."  
  
"You got yourself hurt!" she shouted back. "Sorry for barking, but you just don't get it do you? Every time you fight I'm with you and I'm worried. You've only been here a day and you're nervous, imagine three days right after having your children. That's what I went through before I found you! You just don't get how your actions affect people do you? Well, they do! So try to act responsibly!"  
  
I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into my arms. "I'se so sorry, I'se so so sorry. I didn' mean ta hoit ya like dat. I won't do it evah again, I promise." I held her close as she shook with sobs. If it weren't for my life on the streets I would have cried myself, but the lifestyle had permanently dried my eyes of tears. My face was completely devoid of emotion, which - though on Spot it meant nothing - would show anyone who knew me that I was on what any other person would call the brink of tears. I'm not sure what it's called for a person who doesn't cry, but someday I vow to find out.  
  
The two of us were still in this position when I heard Roman barreling through the door panting. "Dis whole area is gonna become a hospital for da wounded, so you'll see who it is dat's injured soon enough. I gots ta help Kloppman, but Alex you'se stay up heah an' get some of dem settled in when we bring 'em. Race, I know you'se gonna wanna stand up an' help out but you'se gotta stay in bed so ya don't get woise. Promise?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, trying to get out of agreeing to stay in the bed.  
  
"I want the word promise to come outta yoah mouth. Repeat it wit' me, 'I Racetrack Higgins'" he started.  
  
I had no choice but to follow his example. I could end the embarrassment sooner however by agreeing, which I did. I was too tired to stand anyway. "I, Racetrack Higgins, solemnly swear not ta stand an' get out ta help da othahs unless it's a complete an' total emergency," I pledged.  
  
"Is dat da best I'se gonna get outta ya?" he asked, sighing.  
  
"Yessir," I replied cockily.  
  
"Fine," he muttered before walking out to help the injured folks.  
  
I sat there, waiting to see my friends carried in and monitor their condition. My heart stopped as I saw the first person they carried in - Spot Conlon.  
  
- - - - - - -  
  
A/N: Okay, so maybe I lied and its not a happy chapter. I meant for it to be a happy chapter, but then I got a bad headache and I wasn't happy anymore. Their were some quips though, so I hope it satisfied.  
  
Shoutouts:  
  
Sureshot: Fun dip?? I love fun dip!! That stuff is drugs though, I swear it! Maybe they had fun dip in 1903. * grins * Wait, aren't I supposed to be giving you stuff to review instead of the other way around. * snatches fun dip * Oh well, I ain't complaining.  
  
Drama-Queen: Does this qualify as hurrying? Yes, well, Race is okay but Spot isn't. Man, I enjoy this way too much, don't I?  
  
Soaker: I guess in next chapter we find out who you need to worry about. We already know we should be worried about Spot, but I know you already were. Oh well, we'll find out soon I guess.  
  
Sweets: Were you having some of Sureshot's fun dip? Haha. Why aren't you supposed to be on? Anyway, whatever.  
  
PLEASE R&R!! FREE TUBE OF NUWANDA'S LIPSTICK (DOUBLES AS FACE PAINT) FOR ALL REVIEWERS (hehe, katz, don't you just love my offers?)  
  
I leave you with these parting words: Ooo da ma fuch! Ding da long day! Lalalalalala.. hoodies!! Haha Casey. 


	5. Evaluating Injuries and Praying

Disclaimer: Just totally realized I had forgotten disclaimers up until now! Okay, here it goes. I don't own anything you already recognize from the Disney version of Newsies. Except Racetrack. He's locked in my closet right now. Any original newsgirls belong to themselves (trust me, I wouldn't want to own Sli and Mouth). Spark, Arianna, Shai, Dev, Ricochet, Skirmish, and Roman belong to me. All plot ideas belong to me. Okay, glad that's cleared up.  
  
- - - - - - - - -  
  
"Speak of the devil," I heard Alex say and I turned around in the chair to face her. "Spot, we were just telling the kids some stories from the past. We were right at your injury and stay at Spark and Kloppman Hospital," she joked.  
  
"Ya aren't tellin' 'em everythin' are ya?" he asked, looking pointedly at Devy.  
  
"Within reason we is," I cut in. Seeing Spot as a father was still odd, but he really suited the role better now than when he was younger. As a young man he'd been reckless, not to mention a newsie, but now he was a respected man working at an office building. Slider and he were eventually joined in holy matrimony about a year after Spark and me had our own wedding.  
  
When you think about it, all of my friends had done well for themselves. As well as uneducated kids from the streets could anyway. Mouth, Sli, and Blink worked for Medda as a singer, dancer, and actor respectfully. David had gotten enough of an education to make it into University and was working on becoming a doctor. Jack, ironically enough, took a position as head of the Refuge. Let's just say it's a lot better with Kelly in charge. Spot, as I said before, worked in an office building as did Skittery. The rest of the boys tended to stay in the newspaper business taking jobs like Weasel's. I'd stayed in the newspaper business as well, but in a different way. I was a journalist, just like Denton. I freelanced, writing for whatever paper wanted to pick up my story. I had drifted so far off into thought that I didn't even feel Skirmish, Skittery's kid, tugging at my pants for a while.  
  
"Can you'se finish da story?" Skirmish asked. I looked at the other children and they had similar looks of interest on their faces.  
  
"Of coise I can," I said before once again resettling myself in the chair and leaning towards them, hunching my back and started to talk. "Now where was I?" I asked, just like every storyteller before they begin.  
  
"Me daddy was hoit!" Dev shouted, eager to hear the rest of the story.  
  
I chuckled. "How stupid of me ta forget," I said, with feigned embarrassment. This made the children giggle and I decided I could start my story again.  
  
-*-*-*-  
  
Now I'm not one to have my heart stop because someone I know has a cut, but Spot was looking bad. He had knife slashes all the way down his arms and a fine cut that traced his jaw perfectly. His hair was matted the blood from a gash on the back of his head, and both his eyes had become instant shiners. He leaned on the table to walk into the room and collapsed onto the nearest bed, groaning in pain.  
  
"Spot!" Spark shouted. I could see tears already beginning to form in her eyes as she looked at him. Blinking them back she popped up and grabbed the doctors kit beside her, setting to work on Spot. She worked mechanically, without any of the emotion that was always present in her face. She was hurt beyond emotion; she was beyond grief and beyond tears. Every ounce of her strength went towards making Spot live. "You're gonna be okay, You're gonna be okay." She laid her head down on his stomach, shaking with silent sobs. I stood by and watched the scene unfold before me, unable to help her in any way. I felt helpless and lost as I watched her cry.  
  
"Deah G-d," I whispered, facing the sky. "If you do exist.. I know I don' pray enough an' I'se not dat good of a boy, but I'se askin' ya somethin' an' it ain' for me. I love dis goil wit' all me heaht an' I she don' deserve ta have somethin' like dis happen ta her. Please, G-d, please let Michael 'Spot' Conlon live. Please, let 'im be all right. Let 'em all be all right." I stopped praying somewhere in there and started talking to myself. "Why da hell do we hafta fight? Why does it always have ta end dis way? Why are happy endin's only in stories? What da hell happened ta da woild? Innocent boys an' goils are killin' each othah wit'out considerin' da othah's life! What's wrong wit' people?"  
  
When I finally opened my eyes, I scanned the room to see who'd been brought in. Nearly every Brooklyn or Manhattan newsie lay in the room as well as some Queens boys who looked to be in bad condition. I assumed the rest of the boys and girls from the other boroughs had gone back to their own lodging houses. I saw all of the 'Hattan girls, some running around and helping Kloppman and Roman and others injured themselves.  
  
I heard someone on my left side and I turned to see Mouth curled into a ball on the floor. I whispered her name and reached out my hand, trying to comfort an old friend. "Mouth? You all right?"  
  
Her body was shaking as she answered with one word. "Dominic," she croaked.  
  
"It's okay, it's okay," I said, pulling her close to me and stroking her coarse red hair. "It'll all woik out," I promised, though looking at my fellow newsies I really didn't know. If I was the one that got off easy.. I couldn't think about it. I turned my attention back towards Mouth "You'se ain' hoit, are ya?"  
  
She shook her head no and buried her face into my shoulder, but no tears ever came from those dry eyes. She'd seen too much hurt and pain in her short life to cry. All of us had. We were teenagers who didn't even cry when our significant other died. We'd been through some tough shit, but this was the first time I realized how cold we had grown. Or rather, how cold they had grown. I was nearly in tears just looking around the room, and my own family was safe and cozy.  
  
When Mouth fell asleep leaning on me I called Roman over, asking him if I could please see my children. He promised to go get them from Medda's first thing the next morning and I agreed. After we moved Mouth into a separate bed I asked for news. "What happened? What's the status?"  
  
"Chant's dead - Spot killed 'im," was all he said before glancing at his leader and departing from the room. I sat, worrying for a long, long time about how things would turn out. I saw Mush and Kid Blink nursing broken arms, nothing more serious. Jack had gotten a little worse off, a broken leg. It would keep him from selling for a while, but at least he wasn't dead. Boots and Snipes - who had stayed back as they were too young to be involved in bloody gang wars -- told me that Itey, Snith, and Skittery were okay, but I never got to see them since they were in the other room. The girls seemed to have minor injuries only. Slider was the worst off, with a broken wrist and a double shiner. I couldn't help but selfishly be glad Spark couldn't have fought. I couldn't' stand to see her like this. It wasn't' all going to get better though, Bumlets was gone, as were two Brooklyn boys and one from Queens. And Spot wasn't exactly in prime condition.  
  
As I drifted into the world of slumber, I found myself praying once again to the G-d I never had truly believe in until now. "Please, Lord, save dese poor children. Dat's all we are.. children! Mush just reached sixteen an' Sprite's jus' a yeah behind 'im. Fifteen an' she's in heah wit' 'er arms wrapped up from knife cuts. Please, G-d, please."  
  
- - - - - - -  
  
A/N: I wasn't really trying to be preachy by making him pray, it's just what I think he would do in that situation. I know my Racetrack is a little more emotional than most people's perception of him, but if you just watch those eyes. And that grin. Innocence covers his face. Now I'm going off on a tangent. Anyway.. hope you liked it.  
  
Shoutouts:  
  
Plaid Pajamas: If you must know, Spot is going to be okay. Well, you should know that because he still exists at the beginning. Either way. LOL. Sorry, I'm hyper again. * mumbles something about Sureshot Higgins and fun-dip *  
  
Soaker: I think they're gonna be okay. Hehe. I don't like writing happy chapters. But we determined that I torture my characters while I was writing Family Ties. Did you expect me to change? * manic laugh * Anyway, I promise that after chapter 6 I'm writing loads of happy chapters. Just think of it this way.. at least Chant's dead.  
  
Sli: Dude, I so missed when you were reviewing my story right next to me. And you were talking about it too. I'm sooo stupid sometimes. You could be intimidating.. maybe. If I didn't know you. But you will be! When we take over hell you'll have to be intimidating. As your campaign manager I require it. xD  
  
Sweets: I know you've been waiting patiently for about a week, sorry it took so long. Think of it this way, I promised one after my English project and you got it tonight. Either way, I promise another one before I go to West Texas and more after I get back (I'll write while I'm there). : )  
  
Drama-Queen: I'll tell you what I told Plaid Pajamas, at least we know Spot lives. I mean, after all, he's not a ghost when he comes back. Hehe, that would be funny. Ghost Spot. LOL.  
  
A/N: As I said to Sweets, expect another update before I leave for evil West Texas on the 5th. Mush love to all who review. You can get-Choco. dipped * your favorite newsie here * Step right up and place your orders!! Mwahahahahahaha. 


	6. Good Faddah

A/N: Whoa! Its been FOREVER since I updated. I am a horrible, horrible person. Oh well. School's out Thursday so I decided to get back to writing. Here ya go!  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"G'night kiddos," I said as the last the children were ushered out the door and into Snipeshooter and Boots' custody for the night. They were our babysitters whenever we had these get-togethers, since they weren't exactly in our circle while we were younger. I glanced around the table at the people that had joined us tonight. Spot, of course, was there; his attendance was practically required to have these meetings. The other regulars Mush, Kid Blink, Skittery, and Smyth had shown up. The girls were Slider, Fingers, Sprite and Frenchy - she came just two years back. She worked with Spot down at the office and he invited her to a Christmas dinner back then.  
  
We settled down on various chairs brought into the room, though most people ended up on the floor. I glanced around the room grinning as I watched Sprite sitting in Mush's lap, her growing belly somewhat obvious. Smyth and Fingers were sitting together as well, though they weren't expecting to have any children for a long time- Fingers was still only seventeen. Sli and Spot were, obviously, sitting near each other and Spot was gazing at her in a caring way that was reserved just for Slider, Spark, and Dev- the only women that were important in his life, according to him.  
  
Spot cleared his throat and began to talk, "So, how's it going?" was all he really had to say.  
  
A murmur of answers filled the room, most people answering completely nonchalantly. I decided to help the conversation along, "I know its been a while, but sitting with the kids made me think, and I feel like we should just tell stories tonight."  
  
The former newsboys around me nodded their heads in agreement. "I know most of us have been listening to your story tonight, how about you finish it up?" Skittery offered.  
  
"You all lived dat story, why do ya wanna heah it again?" I asked, confused. The story was mostly about these people, it wasn't really a story to them, just memoirs.  
  
Mush spoke up. "Whether we've hoid it befoah or not yer story is da best love story evah told, an' a great tale of intrigue an' adventure as well," he explained. "It'd make a great novel, Race, ya need ta write it out. You'se a journalist already, how 'bout jus' becomin' a novelist too."  
  
If I were a girl, I would have blushed. As it was, I simply denied the greatness of our story until I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Spark, of course. She leaned forward and whispered into my ear, "Quit denying it and just tell them our story already."  
  
"Wheah should I start?" I said in response. She planted a quick kiss on my cheek before I proceeded to tell the story.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
I thought about my friend's lying in the other room injured. We'd lost Mouth. The doctor says she had a deep wound she didn't tell anyone about that became infected. But I know the truth. She didn't want to go on living anymore, with Bumlets gone she didn't have any reason to live. That's how I felt about Spark.. that was for sure. Everyone else made it through and was in recovery now. Spot fortunately would make it through. In fact, Conlon would probably be better two days after that night.  
  
"What're you thinking about?" Spark asked me, lying underneath the blanket I was on top of, running her fingers through my curly hair.  
  
"I won' be a good faddah to 'em will I?" I blurted out.  
  
She looked me in the eyes with a slight look of disbelief. "You're the best father they could ever ask for."  
  
"Why are ya lyin' ta me? I'se jus' an eighteen yeah old newsboy, what kinda faddah does dat make?"  
  
"You love them, Anthony. What more can they ask for?"  
  
"Money?" I said, coming out more as a question than a statement. It was true though. What kid would want to be born into a family with parents who could barely afford to feed themselves. "A roof ovah deir heads?"  
  
"People only like money if they're raised to like money. They only want money if they've gone through a period of time with money. Our children won't have either. And we'll always be able to put a roof over their heads. We have people who'll help us out, even if we have to live in the lodging house forever," she answered calmly.  
  
I reflected on what she said and realized it all made sense. That was when I knew it would work out. I wasn't really sure about it before, but I knew that if I had Spark I could make it all the way through anything. My children were lucky as hell to have her as a mother.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
As I paused to take a breath before telling more of my story I felt soft lips descending upon my own. The breath I had taken a moment before was stolen away as the passionate kiss continued on. Applause surrounded us and filled my ears as I heard catcalls and other noises coming from my friends in the room watching. Finally, Spark pulled away.  
  
"What was that for?" I asked. I didn't want to question my luck, but I wanted to know what I'd done so I could do it again. Often.  
  
She grinned. "I love you."  
  
She kissed me once more before announcing, "And on with the story!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"I'm gonna go get meself some milk, ya want anythin' from downstairs?" I offered, pushing myself off the bed.  
  
"Milk would be good," she answered before rolling over on her side with her back to the door.  
  
Trying not to make much noise I walked down the stairs and into what we all called the kitchen. It housed the few loaves of bread and occasional slice of cheese as well as the milk that Kloppman tried to keep in some form of stock for us. I grabbed two beaten metal mugs and poured milk into them. Quickly I climbed my way back up the stairs and slid into the room without another sound.  
  
I tapped Spark on the shoulder to give her the cup, but she moaned and didn't move. I realized she was asleep and sat there, sipping milk and singing a song I'd once heard somewhere.  
  
"I don't need no one, to tell me about heaven. I look at my daughter, and I understand," I sang, watching my children sleep peacefully, breathing evenly.  
  
I sighed. I'd never been more content in my life.  
  
A/N: I know its short, but I want to watch the end of Law & Order. He's a pedophiliac!!! He molested the little boy! Eww. Sorry, I'm talking about L&O not WB. Haha. Well, bye bye for now.  
  
SOs:  
  
Sweets: Writer's block somewhat gone. New chapter. Enjoy with your choco- dipped Kid Blink. XD  
  
Soaker: Well, Race is sweet and happy in this chapter. I know I killed off another character, but then I was writing sweet stuff. So I sorta did it right.  
  
Sureshot: Finals are that early for college? Didn't know that. Better than highschool. They start next week. You can have choco-dipped Racetrack until my next update when I'll trade you for chocolate dipped Bumlets. Gives me an incentive to write.  
  
Drama-Queen: heh. Gabe Damon's birthday. My friends and I sang him the birthday song at lunch. Good times, good times.  
  
Poe: Jews are cool! I'm a Jew. It's special. Haha. Nope, just one version of newsies. I just meant that it was Disney's. Not that there was another newsies. I wish! Haha. Well, glad you like it!  
  
Plaid Pajamas: BEING HYPER IS FUN!! You can have choc. Davy, I sure don't want him (no offense). Heh. Heh. Heh. LOL. 


	7. Shout?

A/N: I know this update is taking me years again, but I've had so much stuff to do. Even with school wrapped up I'm working on my bat mitzvah and there's a lot going on in my every day life. I'm really trying, but I've also had writer's block as well as like fifty other stories to write while I do this. I'm really trying to get back to my original one update a day status from WUAS, but I don't think I can handle that again. Anyway, lemme get started so I can get this to you faster.  
  
- - - - - - - -  
  
"Damn, it's back to woik once again," I sighed, pulling my newsie cap over my curly locks and slipped my arms through the armholes of my worn plaid vest. "As long as it keeps you an' da kids eatin' I'se not complainin'. We'se gonna be eatin' pretty sparse since we'se gotta stretch for da whole lodgin' house, so don' expect me back from da latah papes 'til pretty late at night."  
  
Spark grinned. "You think I'm letting you go out selling by yourself?" She picked up a crying Ari and started to breast-feed her. "I'm coming with you."  
  
"What about da twins? We don' wanna leave 'em heah, Kloppy has too much on 'is hands at da moment," I said, for once being the voice of reason.  
  
Spark had that affect on me; she kept me making more intelligent and responsible choices for the both of us. I guess it was her craziness that kept me having to be the adult in the family.  
  
"We'll take 'em with us. If I've got twins hanging off my waist and tugging on my skirt I'll seem easy and sexy to the men while appearing desperate and helpless to the women. It's a foolproof plan. We just can't sell too close together," she muttered out without a pause.  
  
"When'd you think all dis through?" I asked. She'd practically passed out cold the night before, how'd she have time to think of all of this. It was a good plan too.  
  
She smirked-Spark had definitely inherited the same smirk Spot did. I'm not sure how many times I've mentioned that, but it seems truer and truer every time I see her with that expression. "Just call it women's wit," she answered back, buttoning her shirt after feeding Shai as well.  
  
"Ya shore ya healthy enough ta be sellin' out by yaself. Should we send one of da goils out wit' ya?" I offered. Her plan sounded good, but I wasn't really eager to let her go out by herself ever, and especially not in her current condition.  
  
"I'se tellin' ya, honey, if I'se alone people'll react bettah. I won' get da sympathy angle from da goils if I'se got Slidah or someone helpin' me along. I'se gotta do dis one on me own," she said, slipping back into her New York selling accent. "Now where'd ya put me ol' dresses?"  
  
"They're over there in dat drawer. I'se still not shore 'bout dis one, Alex."  
  
She paused, most likely in the shock of once again being called her real name. I generally use her real name when I want to get her attention, and it's always worked. "Race, I can take care of myself. I've been there, done that. I'm a big girl now, almost eighteen. You can trust me," she said in a soothing, calm voice.  
  
I was still uneasy about it, but I knew I was never going to be able to stop her. I watched as she slid slowly into the dress that she'd made herself only three months ago, when she outgrew her old ones. She grabbed a brush and ran it through her tangled hair a couple of times. "Less primpin', moah sellin'," I groaned, still not used to having a roommate who had to make herself look pretty before leaving the lodging house. Guess that's what happens when you're engaged.  
  
"All righ', all righ', hold ya hoises. Lemme jus' get da kids, okay?" she said impatiently, scooping Ari and Shai up from their makeshift bed so that they were once again clinging to her waist as they always did. Despite my lingering issues with allowing Spark to leave on her own, I couldn't help but smile at my kids. MY kids. I'd helped create those children. I was a part of them. I still wasn't used to the shock that it caused every time I saw them. Maybe I was a little younger than most fathers, but honestly, do you think if they knew how great it felt to be a father they would have waited as long as they did. I'm almost glad that Spark and I made the mistakes we did. Things would have been a lot different if we hadn't. For one, I wouldn't be engaged to the most beautiful woman in the all of New York. "Now who's da one slowin' us down?" she asked, shaking me out of my daze. I had a tendency to zone out during the warm summer days.  
  
"Let's go," I said, swinging the door open to reveal another day in the life of a newsie. Here's a confession. Most people thought we hated being newsboys, in fact, most of us discussed how much we hated it, myself included. Now I don't speak for the other boys, but I know that I, at least, truly loved being a newsboy. I really enjoyed the freedom that it gave me, and the fact that I was doing something where I wasn't stuck in a factory every day like most people. "Weasel's waitin'. He hasn't seen many of us lately. Business'll be bettah since most of da 'Hattan an' Brooklyn boys is still recoverin', an' so are da oddah boroughs. In fact, it'll be a pretty small market."  
  
"Well, that's good since we'se supportin' so many people off taday's earnin's. Kloppman isn't gonna ask us but we'se gotta 'elp 'im take care of day boys or he'll be foiced ta make 'em earn deir own money, an' most of da ones dat are left really can' move. Even Jack's immobilized fah da moment."  
  
"I know. But between da two of us we'se gotta support our kids foist, den we worry 'bout da lodgin' house. We'll find a way to make enough, I promise," I pledged, hoping whole-heartedly that I'd be able to make that promise come true.  
  
"I'll meet ya back at da lodgin' house foah da lunch break. We'll sort it out den an' give 'em what we can," Spark said, very businesslike despite her appearance. "Love ya, sweetie," she said, leaning forward and giving me a kiss on the cheek before walking in the direction of Central Park, trying to sell her one hundred papers.  
  
"Love ya too," I whispered, but it was basically to the wind as she was already out of sight. I sighed one last nervous, protective sigh before walking towards my usual selling spot. When I got there, I started wondering what had me so worried. Spark had been involved in a lot worse situations, and I hadn't broken a sweat over some of them. This had my stomach up in knots.  
  
"Where have all you boys been lately?" a young man asked as I handed him the paper. The five I'd sold before I'd mechanically gone through the motions without conversation, but I could tell this young man was actually interested somewhat in our lives.  
  
That didn't happen very often, so I decided to answer his questions. "Well, ya see, dere was a big fight wit' some of da oddah newsies in da New Yawk area so a lot of da boys an' goils is injured an' not able ta sell. Dose of us out heah is tryin' ta get enough money ta pay foah 'em as well as ourselves."  
  
"You're trying to support all of the Manhattan newsies off the salaries of the rare twenty or so out today?" he asked, obviously amazed out our attempts.  
  
"Dem. An' me two kids. But it's been done before, so we'se tryin' ta do it again. Da way we figah it, dere's less competition, so we can sell bettah den most days." I spoke normally, not accenting any particular words over the rest, and yet he still seemed interested in two words I'd said in particular.  
  
"You have two children?" He was obviously surprised by this revelation, and I suppose with good reason considering my age.  
  
I smiled, proud of my children though they were just the boy and girl of two newsies in love. "My fiancée just had a twin boy an' goil jus' undah a week or so ago," I answered, positively beaming at the mention of Spark, Ari, and Shai.  
  
"Don' tell anyone, 'cause it wouldn' be good foah me image as an influential society membah," he said, slipping into an accent not unlike my own. "But I was a newsie once too. Stayed in da lodgin' house jus' a few streets ovah. Ol' man named Kloppman, ya know 'im?"  
  
"Kloppy! He's still there in fact. That's the same lodgin' house me an' Spark are livin' in, along wit' da rest of me friends. Ya got a nickname, ol' chap?" I said, surprised that this wealthy, seemingly well- raised man had once been in the same occupation as myself.  
  
"Dey called me Shout. Tell ya what," he said, putting his hand in his pocket. "Take dese five dollahs ta help ya along. I'se got enough ta support meself without it. Give 'em straight away ta Kloppman. Tell 'im dat Shout gave it to ya. I'll come visit da lodgin' house in a week or so, as soon as I have time. All right? Will ya do dat foah me?" he asked, handing me the five-dollar bill. I was amazed to be holding that much money in my hand at the same time.  
  
I nodded, and he walked off before I could utter another word. Finally, when he was halfway down the block it came. "Thank you!" I yelled down the street. He heard me and turned around, grinning.  
  
For the rest of the day I simply went through the motions, selling the papes and letting my mind wander. As soon as I sold my one hundred and fifth paper, I rushed back to the lodging house to tell Kloppman of the excitement of the day. I gave a quick greeting to Spark, who was already sitting on a chair in the entryway before rushing to Kloppman and telling him about Shout, and giving him the five dollars.  
  
- - - - - - -  
  
A/N: I know the endings not really complete, but I'm still forming ideas in my head. I guess you'll just have to wait until the next chapter to figure out more about Shout. Yup. This must be what the Wachowski bro.s felt like after Matrix Reloaded came into theatres. They must be laughing at all of us sad and pathetic people waiting desperately for Matrix Revolutions to come out so that we understand what we didn't quite get in Reloaded. Or maybe that's just my opinion. Whatever.  
  
Also-I was rereading my first chapter today, and I'm totally in love with the whole proposing paragraph! I never reread my work after I write it, so I decided to do that today. I'm obsessed with it. I don't think its healthy to be obsessed with a fictional characters proposal, is it? Oh well.  
  
SOs:  
  
Sureshot: That is so my theory too! I'm like obsessed with how good he'd be with children! Good thing I'm not the only one. Okay, now I get my chocolate dipped Race, and you get Bumlets. I've been without my Racetrack for a full week now, I could definitely use the trade. Heh.  
  
Soaker: Yup. I think it's a good story too. I'm not promoting my writing skills, or anything about me writing the story, but the actual plot. If I weren't writing it this would totally be my favorite story. It appeals to my inner romantic. Heh.  
  
Sweets (aka Bunny): DUDE! I TYPED! Aren't you proud? It took me a week, I know, but it's better than last time!  
  
Drama-Queen: Falling off the face of the internet it bad. Nope, it was just extremely bad writer's block. This time it was laziness. Anyway, hope you liked! 


	8. More Family Ties

A/N: I'm a horrible, horrible person who left again for like * counts on fingers * twenty-three (by the time I post maybe twenty-four) days. That's the worst ever. And contrary to popular belief, I did not fall off the face of the internet, nor meet some wonderful man like Lloyd Dobbler and run off with him. Or Sirius Black for that matter. J.K. Rowling is evil. In truth, I had to deal with my bat mitzvah up until the fourteenth, and after that I was struck with a severe case of writer's block (which is almost as evil as J.K. Rowling) and was unable to write. So anyway, here's my attempt at something.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - -  
  
"Hey there Kloppman, ya evah gonna tell us 'bout dis Shout person? Or ya gonna make us wondah?" I said the next night as the lodging house owner, Spark, and I ate dinner together downstairs.  
  
"I could tell you right now," Kloppman started, "but then I couldn't lord it ovah you whenevah I wanted to.  
  
I grinned at the old man, digging into the potato in front of me as if it was heaven. "But ya really wanna tell us, dontcha? Ya jus' achin' ta let me an' Spark know da story of Shout," I said, obviously begging the older man.  
  
At this point an even more amused smile crossed his face. "I do wanna tell Spark. In fact, she already knows," he said, and it was obvious he thought this the biggest joke of the night.  
  
"Spark?" I questioned my fiancee, whose smile made it evident that old Kloppman could still be held never to tell a lie to his lodgers.  
  
"Race?" she questioned, levely but evidently trying not to laugh.  
  
Throwing my hands into the air, I stood up. "Why can I not know who Shout is? It's not like there's some important story, is there?"  
  
"Oh, but there is," Kloppman said. He paused for a moment, as if trying to choose the correct words to tell me, before simply giving up. "Ya see, Shout's ya bruddah."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Shout! Man, dat boy caused some good times," Mush stated as I paused for a breath. The breath was meant to build drama, but Mush just didn't seem to understand. Then again, I don't think he ever really understood. That wasn't his job. Come to think of it, what was his job? I'll be damned if I know. Of course, if I really do know, I'm going to be damned. And that's not good. Whoa, completely different tangent. Forgive me.  
  
A smirk crept up on Spot's face. "He threw some pretty wild parties those couple of yeahs he was around."  
  
"Now, c'mon boys, dis is Race's story aftah all," Sprite interjected. "Continue, my deah friend," she said, laughing.  
  
"As I was sayin'," I answered, with a mock glare at the boy who had interrupted me in the first place, and another at the person who spoke after him. Then, of course, I proceeded with the story.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"He's me what?" I yelled, more confused than angry. "How come ya nevah told me I had a bruddah. An' he couldn't've been moah den five yeahs oldah den meself!"  
  
"You'll find his appearance deceiving. He's must be thirty by now, hardly twenty-three!" Kloppman answered me.  
  
"An' when did he leave heah?" I asked Kloppman.  
  
The older man looked as if he was thinking back to quite a few years ago, and considered his words quite a while before answering my question. "He left here when he was fifteen. Oh! That'd make him thirty-two this year. He only stayed with you the first year after he brought you here, but he'd been workin' a while back. Found out ya mother'd given birth recently an' went back home ta try an' get ya in here where he thought you'd be safe." With another moment's consideration, he spoke again. "What a coincidence he was talkin' to you though. It's not as if he'd recognize ya after seventeen years."  
  
At that moment, the door swung open, and the topic of discussion himself appeared behind my seat. My brother, not the topic of discussion. My brother. Now that sounded weird. But why had no one told me I had a brother? "Well, Kloppman, I think you'd realize dat if I'd been watchin' foah me bruddah heah da past seventeen yeahs I'd recognize 'im very well indeed. Really, ya did take care of 'im, I owe ya."  
  
"An' we all know you had no hand in my upbringin', Shout. An' what's ya real name anyhow?" I asked. I didn't know why I felt angry with him. He was family after all. But something in me just really didn't want to trust him.  
  
"Name's Andrew. An' I would've had ta do wit' ya upbringin', but I was tryin' ta get ya a bettah life den da one I was livin' at da time. I wanted ta make money an' come an' find ya, an' da time is nearin' dat I can take ya wit' me. Didn' expect da children an' wife," Shout explained. Well, I should say Andrew explained. He was family, it was only right to refer to him by his proper name. Not that I had enough family to compare this to. Well, Spark and the kids, but they weren't blood family. Well, the kids were but, ahh.. I'm confusing myself again, aren't I? Really need to stop with these tangents.  
  
"If ya say so," I said, still hostile towards my brother. I guess it was 'cause I couldn't exactly consider someone I'd only just met my brother. And he'd been fifteen when he left! We were fourteen years apart. Meaning my parents must have been a lot older when I was born. And I'd always thought they were young. Not only had Andrew's appearance shaken my internal family tree, but shattered my invisionments of my parents as well. If you ask me, I had a right to be angry. If not at him as a person than definitely at the concept of him.  
  
The concept alone of having a brother shattered everything I'd ever imagined about my homelife. The stories I told the boys I remembered couldn't have happened, I never had a mother growing up. I simply created tales until I believed them to comfort myself considering my lack of childhood. My entire life had been a lie.  
  
A/N: Yes, it is also unforgivably short as well as late. I swear that with all distraction out of the way I'll have VERY frequent updates till I ship off to camp from July 6 until July 19 and again the weekend after that to go to NEW YORK CITY. But yeah, other than that, my summer is basically full of writing.  
  
SHOUTOUTS (been missing the satisfaction of talking to you guys!!):  
  
Sweets: Babe, not expecting a review from you for a while, but I'm definitely sending this baby up to you at camp with my letter. Wasn't sure I'd have it finish in time, but I do!! Love that feeling.  
  
Sureshot: Yeah, you definitely close in on Max Casella better than me. Let's see, thirteen and thirty-six. That'd be, twenty-three years. Damn! Well, you never know. Just look at.. ummm.. * searches frantically for a good example * Well, someday people will use Max and I as the example of twenty-three year age differences. Yep, it'll be special.  
  
Drama-Queen: I know you're muttering to yourself about me falling off the face of the internet again, because I am a horrible person. I'm trying to get better! If I leave off again for twenty-four days you have officially permission to email me a digital ass whooping of some kind. Don't you forget that.  
  
Soaker: Sorry I'm a little late with my update. Heh. Doesn't work quite as well, does it? But yeah, there's a reason for Shout.. I promise.. I just don't rightly know what it is yet. Hehe. I wish I had $5 too. Actually I do, it's in my back pocket.. but I wish random strangers that turned out to be my brother that looked twenty-three when they were really thirty-two would hand me five dollar bills. Hehe.  
  
Whoa, those were long SOs. As I said before, I missed y'all!! Won't go that long ever again, I promise. 


	9. AN

This story (as well as the rest of mine) is currently on hiatus because I have written myself into a corner and it's been over a month since I've been able to do anything about it. I apologize for just stopping like this, but I'd rather wait even five months before writing then finish what I consider a decent story with a sucky ending. I hope you understand where I'm coming from, and I'll update as soon as I have it all worked out in my mind.  
  
Mush love to all my reviewers, you guys are my life!  
  
CTB,  
  
Spark. 


End file.
